In Europe and the United States, contemporary Russian
literature, by which I mean a continuation of the Russian classical tradition,
is notable only by its absence.

Recently, a prominent German newspaper published an interesting
list - the most significant works of the past seven decades, i.e. post-war
writing which together forms the so-called European literary canon.

This “canon” seems to include pretty much everyone you can think
of: However Russia is represented only by two works, Solzhenitsyn’s “Gulag
Archipelago” and Pasternak’s “Doctor Zhivago.” Both were published decades ago,
and neither of them will ever be seen as pivotal moments in modern Russian
literature.

On the whole, contemporary Russian writers are only of
peripheral interest to foreign readers. And actually Russia itself is
peripheral and uninteresting too, but very big. This was where the terrible
Soviet Union once was.

Then along came Gorbachev the good-guy (it should be
noted that he is hated by 99 percent of the Russian population). Then Yeltsin,
drunk but quite nice (9 out of 10 Russians despise him too). And now there’s
Putin. Putin speaks German and pretends to be very scary and terrible
(when of course he actually isn’t).

Whatever the case, in terms of culture, Russia appears to have
been placed in the same category as some underdeveloped, backwater country.

A case in point is the phenomenon of writer Nikolai Lilin and
his popularity in the West.

His works (“Free Fall; A Sniper’s Story” and “Siberian Education”) are
truly impressive for their triteness and the sheer quantity of outright lies,
nevertheless, this man is a favorite among some Western readers in Europe and
the United Kingdom.

Needless to say, Lilin has never set foot in Chechnya or a
Siberian prison, but, following in the footsteps of Baron Munchhausen, this
does not stop him spouting a load of exorbitant cock-and-bull stories – and
everyone, at least nearly everyone, laps them up!

Related:

And his rise is actually fully in keeping with the Russian
literary tradition – whereas beforehand immortal con-artists like Gogol’s
Khlestakov and Ilf and Petrov’s Ostap Bender pulled the wool over the eyes of
idiotic officials and thick Soviet bureaucrats, these days it seems naïve
Western readers and Hollywood directors are the ones being taken for a ride.

Wild and uncivilized as Russia may be, it is still highly
unlikely that a book by a contemporary German writer about a squadron of former
SS officers hiding in the forests outside Berlin, listening to Wagner with
their children and grandchildren, reading aloud from the works of Junge and
banging on tin drums as they rob passing trains, would ever be published here.

Or
let’s imagine some French writer comes to Russia, and, at the ripe old age of
22, this guy starts telling everyone about how he served as a sniper in
Algeria, then as a bomber in Iraq, where he personally managed to take one of
Saddam Hussein’s sons hostage - and then writes about all this in his book
where a valiant French commando perform incredible feats (while munching on
frogs), and then people in Russia publish it and gush: “The author is holding
up the mantle of Dumas and Saint-Exupery.”

Well this just wouldn’t happen. Everyone here would immediately
see this drivel for what it is.

But back in Europe, strange things can happen. Plenty of second-rate
books make it to print, and the most popular still seem to be this load of
nonsense that no one in his right mind would ever bother reading in Russia.

My books have been translated into 14 different languages, but I
would never dream of calling myself a writer of European renown – the fact that
I am published abroad seems like some sort of ongoing mistake, albeit one that
is interesting for a narrow circle of academics and the few intellectuals who
are still interested in Russia.

From Pussy Riot to Alyosha Karamazov

But after observing the western publishing industry and how
Russian literature is promoted, I have some idea how Russian writers might appeal
to a mass audience.

Whatever the book is about, the blurb on the back cover needs to
include sentences along the lines of: “This writer is the son of Alyosha
Karamazov.” “He is the brother of the Pussy Riot girls.” “Anna Politkovskaya
loved this book.”

I am not saying success would be completely guaranteed, but the
cover would certainly catch the eyes of hundreds if not thousands of potential
readers who would then flick through the pages to find something about Pussy
Riot and how Putin killed Politkovskaya.

I apologize for any offense this may cause – but a few things
need to be put straight.

Anna Politkovskaya is an absolutely wonderful woman – a genius.
We worked at the same newspaper, although we never got to each other. Her death
was a tragedy for me personally, and modern Russia is much worse off without
her – she set an almost unattainable benchmark in terms of honesty, determination
and the relentless pursuit of justice.

But Politkovskaya is more renowned in the west than she is in
Russia, and for many ordinary Russians she has simply slipped beneath the radar.
Her name has more influence in the west. And it is very odd that Politkovskaya’s
opinion should be a criterion by which a Western reader gauges the importance
of a book by a Russian writer.

It would be just as strange if a contemporary
German writer was revered because of this association with a dissident from the
east who disappeared under unexplained circumstances--someone who would
certainly not have had time to read the book he is now advertising.

I’m bound to offend you even more, but, while being fully aware
that the harsh punishment was grossly out of proportion to the crime that was
committed, most citizens of Russia, including the intelligentsia – genuinely
consider the poor girls’ actions to be absolutely disgusting from both the
ethical and aesthetic point of view.

I doubt very much that there would have been so many fearless advocates
of the girls’ behavior in the west had they staged a deliberately inflammatory
dance and taken their clothes off in front of the Pope. But I repeat - this
does not justify the brutality of the Russian courts in any way shape or form.

I do not know what you think about the situation, but for us
here it is clear that Alyosha Karamazov [the youngest and most sensitive of the
brothers portrayed as a witness to events.] Karamazov and Pussy Riot represent
polar opposites in terms of their outlook on the world.

You might remember that Dostoevsky wrote about another character,
one who went by the name of Smerdyakov? He was also one of the Karamazov
brothers, but an illegitimate one. If you recall the novel, this character may
well shed some light on the situation we have at the moment.

Today Russian literature is tormented by premonitions of the
apocalypse, and is trying to reinstate a literary tradition that has now been
almost completely lost.

There is something really horrible about having all our national
flaws and foibles laid bare for all to see. The aesthetics of destruction have
ceased to be attractive. And one might ask, were the aesthetics of destruction
attractive to Pushkin, Leo Tolstoy and Chekhov?

Westerns readers loved classic Russian literature for the world
it portrays – a place where there is an inexplicable yet resolute sense of the
divine; idealism free of dogma and didacticism; and a firm conviction as to the
existence of good and evil.

Any Great Russian writer is a conservative. They tend not to be
renowned for their tolerance, and generally they are quite strict types, and
the same goes for non-Russians too. I recently read a letter written by my favorite
author, Thomas Mann, who wisely pointed out that, “There is something sad about
self-flagellation and denying the greatness of Germany.”

I would like to apply these words to modern Russia. I
would say there are several authors who are inspired by Great Russian
literature.

A number of writers born around 1970 seem to be doing great
things: Mikhail Tarkovsky with his Siberian stories; Alexander Terekhov who
wrote the great novel “The Stone Bridge”; Dmitry Bykov who brought us the epic
works “Justification” and “Ostromov”; Alexander Kuznetsov-Tulyanin, who wrote
what is undoubtedly a classic saga, “Pagan.”

I am more than certain that Russian masters of an older
generation, including Andrei Bitov, Valentin Rasputin and Eduard Limonov would
be very serious contenders for the Nobel Prize for Literature. But of course
this is not for us to decide, and these things are always easier said than
done.

Historically, Russian literature has always come to Europe propelled by
Russia’s more bombastic expansionist policies. First the Cossacks in Paris, the
partition of Poland and Russia’s reputation as the “gendarme of Europe” –and
then along came Dostoevsky and Turgenev. Then there was the Russian space
drive, the Gulags and Russian tanks in Hungary – which was then followed by
Mikhail Bulgakov and Mikhail Sholokhov’s appearance on the European literary
scene.

It would be nice, of course, to be able to do without tanks and
Cossacks – it would be good if we could read each other just because we like
each other, and because we write quite good books.

Zakhar Prilepin is one of Russia’s more celebrated writers whose books are translated in about 14 different languages.